


Mawdamned

by Bearlinq



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Apocalypse, Gore, M/M, Scourge, Sin'dorei, Undead, Violence, Zombie, bad times, blood elf, more tags will be added im just bad at this, necrovember2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:24:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearlinq/pseuds/Bearlinq
Summary: For the #Necrovember2019 prompts on tumblr.
Kudos: 1





	1. Awakening

The mission was simple. Rescue all they could from the onslaught of scourge invading the city, any they could save was a victory. And shoot down as many of those mangy, mindless abominations as possible-! Their commander had also noted that if worse came to worse, there was no shame in retreating if it means saving themselves. In the apocalypse, it was every man for himself in the darkest hour. Yet- Uriel knew his squad too well.

If it means they could save one more person, strike down that one more enemy, they would give their lives and more to defend their home. Their beloved city, ransacked and turned into a scene straight out of a grisly nightmare, was still their home! They would fight tooth and nail to salvage what little hope they could. It was a trait shared among them all that Uriel used to fuel his own confidence despite the scourge invasion.

In front of him was Ba’themar Azureheart. Ba’themar had always managed to keep their spirits up. While the squad had been together since their very first days as Farstriders together, Ba’themar had been the oldest by a year. Thus, he deemed himself the protector of the group. He was always quick to defend his own from the other squads and more quick to pick fights with the other orders of the city to protect them. He never seemed a hair out of place, always perfect in appearance. His umber hair had always had a signature knot tying it back down the length of his back, like a chocolate river.

On either side of him were Nolae’danas Moonbringer and Aerius Runeshot. Despite not being related, they were two and the same. Birds of a feather. Where one went, the other was likely not far behind. While they had always been the carefree types that gave little care to anybody other than themselves or each other, they came to surprise everybody when they proved they took their training very seriously.

Nolae’danas had a knack for traps and poisons, sneaking around the shadows with ease. One would think he’d have a better career as a rogue but he insists he’s a woodsman through and through. He definitely looks the part, looking the definition of a burly lumberjack. Curly ginger hair he seemed to have a hard time taming hung low over his shoulders with a full beard to match.

While Aerius seemed the complete polar opposite of his close friend, being at least a head shorter with red hair that could rival their people’s deepest crimson, and nowhere near as toned yet still muscular in his own right, the two were often found butting heads in their usual sarcastic, playful manner. Aerius had a specialty with incorporating magic into his shots, thus embracing the nickname of “Runeshot” as his own.

Then there was Uriel’thos Wildstar. A solid five foot five inches, no more and no less, chestnut mane and very.. Out of place, he always felt. The other members had been raised in Silvermoon while Uriel had much felt like the bumpkin of the group, being raised far out in the confines of Fairbreeze Village. Tanned with more than a few sun kissed freckles, he couldn’t blame the others for making jokes that he had rolled out of the woods one day into their little group. Yet they all would come to be one big, dysfunctional family of sorts. At least he had proved his worth and could pull his weight, proving many times his skill in quickshots and sniping.

So being here, now, in the thick of battle with his brothers by his sides, Uriel could find some semblance of peace in the familiarity here. Countless years, decades, and so on, spent among these men. It was almost second nature falling into step with them. It provided some kind of comfort, allowing him to be distracted a bit from the blood that flowed down the gutters like a steady river.

An ungodly crunch and squelch sounded the further they went through the city. Something told Uriel not to look down, not to study the gross muck they trekked through or how they looked like body parts that should never see the light of day- No. Don’t think about it! The rangers stomach lurched again, now being the countless time it had done so. The entourage had passed many a ghoul chomping and feasting on their kin, ears deep in chest cavities or gnawing on limbs. It was sights they each would not recover from easily but at least they were taken out easily; caught unaware as majority were too busy filling their rotten bellies with elven flesh.

Fires blazed through various parts of the city, people occasionally ran by, screaming and holding their loved ones close as they were pointed in the direction of safety, the occasional noisy scourge had tried their luck against the rangers but were swiftly dealt with. In these times, Uriel had a habit of shutting off his hearing. Focusing on what was in front of him rather than hear the horrific sounds of war. It was better this way.

Yet even still, the scream that soon cut through his handmade silence made his blood run cold.

“Hurry- over there!” Ba’themar had hissed under his breath, signalling for the group to round the corner in front of them cautiously.

They did as commanded, each taking aim as they assessed the situation before them. In front of them, there were two of those so called Death Knights surrounding what they could only assume was a father trying his best to protect his two children. The kids looked barely into their teenage years and clung to each other for dear life as their father shielded them as best he could from the monsters poking and prodding at him, jesting at him each time.

“We can take them out, no problem.” Aerius had breathed quietly to Ba’themar who only shook his head.

“No. Not yet. It’s too risky. These things- they’re not as easy to kill compared to the ghouls or geists or other things we’ve been up against. We have to aim just right. A headshot should do the trick. Uri, do you think you can get sights on getting a bulls eye between the bigger ones helmet? It’s a bit of a tough shot but out of all of us, you have best accuracy.”

“I ...” Uriel began, adjusting himself slightly and craning his neck to see the knights better. It was truly a tricky shot if he ever saw one but it was one he would gladly take. Best case scenario, Uriel got his mark and the knight wouldn’t be returning with it’s comrades. Worst case scenario, it provided a momentary distraction and would allow the father and children to escape. He would likely get both scourges attention but for the sake of three lives, he would risk himself. “I can do it. Once I take the shot, Aerius and Nolae, get the family out, yeah?”

“Got it.”  
“Loud and clear, boss.”

The group nodded and split, immediately taking their places. Sticking to the wall and the shadows, Uriel managed to go unnoticed as he took up his position. Nocking an arrow into his bowstring, the ranger pulled back as he aimed. With a deep breath, he waited for the perfect moment he saw his opportunity. Whenever his arrowhead would be just on his mark he would-

Another scream had stilled his hand for a moment as the other knight had brought their runescribed sword down on the poor man they were torturing. In a seconds time, the man had been split clean in half from skull to neck. Blood splattered harshly over the four surrounding him and Uriel’s mouth hung open dumbly as he watched the display. To kill a father right in front of his kids.. How horrible it must be for the two, to witness such an atrocity.

In the next moment, Uriel froze. His ears had went flat against his head as he and the knight he was targeting made eye contact for a split second. He was spotted! A slew of curses filled his mind but he didn’t hesitate then. With the next breath, the arrow was let free, flying through the air until it stuck hard and deep within the knight’s skull with a sickening thud. Sure enough, the monster had fallen quickly.

It’s companion only looked on, seemingly unfazed at this event. A gutteral laugh filled the air that filled Uriel with a sense of dread. A feeling that would only grow as he felt a force over take him. Shadow like tendrils in the shape of clawed hands reached for him, pulling him from his hiding spot until he was face to face with the now only living death knight.

“Been wantin’ to do that for awhile.” came a females voice, sharp and icy as Northrend itself.

The shadows still gripped him, lifting him off the ground by his throat. Constricting and crushing his windpipe, Uriel choked and coughed as he tried to kick, struggle, do something to get him out and away. Yet nothing proved effective. The more he struggled, the harsher the grip on him became until he was sure his eyes would pop from his skull. For a moment, his eyes darted to his friends, silently pleading for their help as tears had unwillingly began streaming from his eyes. Yet no help came; they were all just aghast as Uriel was, staring in horror as they watched the fate of their friend.

Uriel’thos’s vision had begun to grow black around the edges as he struggled for breath. He was sure this was it, he’d be killed here. Eaten, like so many others they saw before. He didn’t want to be ghoul food!

“M-Me..mercy.” He managed to choke out.

The knight only laughed again, this time her tone was humorless and dry as Uriel was tossed a few feet backwards. Rolling a few times and gripping at his neck, gasping and wheezing for breath, Uriel’s vision was blurry yet he could make out the figure of whoever she was coming closer until she stood over him. Kicking him directly in the ribs, metal greaves knocking whatever air he did manage to receive in those few glorious moments of relief out of him once again. A sharp pain had him gasping more as he was sure something beneath her foot snapped and broke.

She kicked again. And again. And once more for good measure until Uriel was sprawled on his back. His bow was long since kicked away and clumsy fingers fumbled for a dagger he held on his hip. This proved to be in vain as the ground beneath him began to shift and roll unnaturally. A deep purple fog had begun to drift upwards, bony hands coming from the ground itself, holding Uriel firmly to the ground. Letting out a startled gasp, Uriel struggled but only caused himself more pain as his broken ribs screamed in protest.

He was dying. This was it. Uriel would die here, on this spot, in the presence of those he considered like family, and before Belore itself. His blood would join the others, so many who had fallen before him and those that would fall after. The man let out a broken sob at the realization death was approaching rather rapidly.

“Please.. Don’t-” He tried to beg. It was fruitless, he knew it was, yet perhaps some small glimmer of hope wished he could touch some part of her that still retained humanity. But it seemed the death knight above him had none left. In one swift motion, she drew her greatsword. It glinted in the rays of the sun, the flecks of blood shining in the light as she held it above her head. In the next moment, the entire length of the blade was enveloped in a blue flame; the same ungodly blue lichfire that haunted the knights’ gazes and gave the undead life.

From somewhere far off, he could swear he could hear his groups horrified gasp. Uriel’s mouth opened once more in an attempt to plead for his life, please you mustn’t do this! But it was too late. Letting out a bloodcurdling scream as the sword was thrust through his middle, just above his belly but just below his sternum, Uriel twitched as blood began to pour from his mouth. Perhaps what was worse was he was not graced with a quick death. For moments that felt all too long, the ranger clawed desperately at the blade keeping him pinned to the cobblestone. It did little save for cut up his hands but it was rational in his dying moments to attempt something, anything.

His head went backwards as he gave one last blood filled gasp, finally... Finally.. His suffering was over.. Belore, let him rest in peace.

......

** _”Awaken, my chosen knight.”_ **

A voice cut through the darkness. The elf- he was elf, correct? he didn’t know anymore. Maybe at one point.. Whatever he was now, his vision slowly came to. The sun was harsh on his now lichfire blazing eyes. Somebody was standing over him; bloodied sword hefted over their shoulder as they glared down at him. Around him, he felt.. He felt...

The living. Somewhere nearby. Could hear their heartbeats, the blood pumping in their veins. Something in his very core rumbled, as if he hadn’t fed in weeks. A hunger more powerful than anything he’s felt before had Uriel staggering to his feet with a forlorn groan. His once polished Farstriders uniform was splattered and painted with blood- was it his? He didn’t know. Maybe so, if the steady drip he could see from the tip of his nose was any indication.

It wasn’t important. He only wanted one thing in this moment and it was to sink his teeth into something.

“Find your comrades, elf. Flay them like they’ve flayed so many of us.” The woman before him commanded, offering her own blade to him. Without hesitation or opposition, Uriel took it. It was heavy, awkward in the hands of somebody who had only ever known the art of bow and arrows. Yet something within him took to the blade quickly. The chill of death clung to his very core as it empowered him to lift the blade.

Relying on whatever this sense was, he followed the tantalizing smell of fresh flesh and heartbeats until he found his targets. Two remained now; who were they? The woman had called them his comrades but...He didn’t recognize the curly haired giant nor the other deep brown headed elf beside him. Arrow after arrow was unloaded into Uriel as he came closer, but none hindered him. Finally, finally, once he was in range, he swung the sword with all his might onto the bigger elf. His head went flying and the feel of blood against his skin was almost almost bliss.

In the moment, the newly turned knight reached his hand up to his mouth to lap at the blood, reveling in the taste. More. He needed more. He must have more!

When it was all done and over with, both of the living elves fully drained of their delicious life source, the woman once again approached Uriel’thos. She seemed.. Pleased. Pulling him by the arm, motioning for him to follow her, Uriel tried, and failed, to wipe the blood from his face but was only effective in smearing it more.

He had no memory of what he was prior to waking up what felt like only a few moments ago. He could barely recall his own name but it was difficult with the roar in his ears as living souls danced tantalizingly around his senses in this city. But he knew his one purpose- it was obvious above all else- to serve the Lich King.


	2. Hunger

The next few months seemed to go by in a blur. He didnt quite remember much over the beginning of this new life he found himself in. He was being trained, he could recall. Two swords were not far from his reach at any given moment. Reforged in frost and death, a soldier capable of going up against even the mightiest foes. He was loyal death knight to the Lich King.

Yet... something in the deep recesses of his mind gnawed at him. Something was wrong. This was all wrong. Uriel wasnt supposed to be here; he wasnt a knight! Through every body he cut through, every soul he claimed in the name of Menethil, every corpse raised in his wake, the once proud ranger he used to be could only watch in a growing horror at what he had become. He was unable to fight against this hold, the dark forces keeping them all obedient was far too great for Uriel to rebel against.

More than anything, these first few weeks and months following his bloody demise proved to be challenging. They would prove to seal that annoying elf he was formerly away in the deepest pit of his soul, if it still remained. This...hunger, this thirst. Whatever it was, It was driving him mad.

This need to draw blood, to consume that sweet scarlet nectar it was.... Nothing Uriel had ever experienced before. It was overwhelming, a driving force that spurred him forward alongside Arthas's command. To inflict this suffering upon the living was almost euphoric as it was the only way to quell this sensation.

Without it on a regular basis, Uriel felt himself slipping more and more. His sight tinting red as he became all but feral, a mockery of what he once was. How many had fallen to his blades? He stopped counting, stopped caring. All he knew was death and suffering.

A specific memory stuck with the knight even through the haze that was the Lich Kings grasp. He was in the field, the death knights had overrun a hideout of the Scarlet Crusade. He could hear screams in the distance, crying, begging for the scourge to spare the humans.

It was disgusting. These creatures. Quick to shun and condemn the knights but once things went awry in their favor, their next breaths were pleading for their lives as if they hadn't been cutting the scourge down moments before. Uriel snarled as his swords dug deep within a protectors body. Sharp steel had easily penetrated the shoddy plate armor and the force of the blow had easily pinned the man to the wall.  
For a moment, Uriel wondered if he should just leave him there. Replace his swords with the warriors own, let him rot at the humility of dying on his own weapons. Pitiful things, so easily overpowered. It was almost laughable.

The death knight walked around the room as he pondered this. Behind him, the warrior sputtered, each cough he let out spitting blood into a thick beard that covered a good portion of his jaw, ear to ear. With a groan, the scarlet uniform clad human struggled to grip at the knights swords, to wrench himself free and off the wall.

"You're a damn monster, elf." The human managed to sputter out.

Uriel paused in his trek around the room. Peering coldly at the other from beneath his helm, the elf wandered back over. He didn't reply immediately, instead he grabbed the hilt of his sword. Pressing into it with all his weight, the human growled as the metal went deeper into him.

"Fuck you." He spat at Uriel, a rage more fiercer than Uriel had scarcely witnessed before painting the warrior's features.

"Hm. I'll pass." Was the only response he would get from the death knight. With a gloved hand, he roughly grabbed the human's jaw in his hand, lifting to expose the tender flesh of his neck. Drawing a blade he kept hidden on his person, Uriel was quick to drag it across the human's jugular. With a choked noise as blood quickly filled the mans throat and out through the wound, Uriel licked his lips as blood sprayed across him from the intensity of the slice.

This was the moment he loved the most. This feeling, sating this thirst he had, the feeling of blood on his skin. It was a bliss he had never felt before. He could almost laugh at the absurdity of it, literally taking a blood bath to sate himself in such a manner. Whatever humanity he had left wondered if perhaps they'd decided to turn him into a vampire rather than a functioning member of the undead.

Either way, he could not deny the enjoyment he got from this. Detaching himself from the now drained human, Uriel withdrew his weapon from the corpse. Without second thought, a dark force encircled him, casting his hands and arms in a twisting purple and black fog. Motioning towards the dead human, he made vigorous ripping motions.  
In the next moment, the human was awake once more, slobbering and growling like a rabid animal. He paced around the room but quickly fell in behind Uriel'thos, following it's newfound master obediently. Just like the dog he is. The death knight thought with an internal laugh to himself.

He would make a fine ghoul once he got back to Acherus. Not like he was using that brain of his for anything good, as far as Uriel was concerned. Picking up his swords once again, he moved to leave, continuing on the death knights crusade through these lands. He had a feast to get to.


End file.
